Come, Holy Spirit

Wisdom, understanding, knowledge, counsel, fortitude, piety and fear of the Lord.  The gifts of the Holy Spirit.  I memorized them for Confirmation 40 or so years ago and they still roll off the tongue. (OK, they only really roll off the tongue smoothly so long as I say them in the order in which I memorized them, starting with “Wisdom.”)

I sometimese think of Pentecost as giving us an annual “booster shot” of the gifts of the Holy Spirit that were magnified in us when we received Confirmation. Of course, that is not completely accurate, since we are always blessed by the Spirit. So perhaps it is more accurate to say that Pentecost helps us to be more open to receipt of the gifts of the Spirit.

As I contemplate the list of gifts, the one that I seem in need of so often is the gift of fortitude. It is the gift of fortitude that gives us the strength to overcome difficulties and to endure pain and suffering.

Sometimes things seem so hard…too hard. Maybe it is that I’m having difficulty discerning God’s will in a given situation. Or obstacles arise that seem to frustrate my ability to do what I think I’m supposed to be doing. Or, I just feel like I’m not doing a very good job at a particular task. In such moments, I feel a temptation to give up. To say, it is just too hard. To want to throw in the towel and start over again. To ask for a “do-over.” The feelings are often magnified because when I look around, it doesn’t seem like other people are struggling as much as I am. They seem to be having such an easy time of things. (Of course, at some level I know that I have no idea how much others are or are not struggling, just as no one looking at me - except perhaps my spiritual director and one or two close friends - can tell when I am struggling. But in moments of weakness, that is not the level on which I am operating.)

What I realize is that what allows me to go on in those moments - whether or not I label it as such at the time - is precisely the gift of fortitude. It comes in that feeling that wells up inside in response to the frustration and temptation to give up. The feeling that allows me take a deep breath and say - you know, it is not really so tough…we can manage this together, Lord, …it is not really all that bad. The feeling that lets me slough off the frustration and temptation to give up. The feeling that strengthens me to go on.

So whether we think of Pentecost as giving us an annual booster shot of the gifts of the Spirit, or making us more open to receive the gifts of the Spirit or maybe just reminding us of the gifts that are always at our disposal, we are blessed. We are given the gifts we need to allow us to live the fullness of our lives as Christians.

One body

Fundamental to Catholic thought is the belief the human life is fulfilled in communion with others and with God.   That is, that, rather than existing as completely autonomous individuals, independent and separate from others, we exists as one with God and with each other.  We are One Body of Christ. 

My friend Gerry sent me  Thomas Merton’s expression of how that reality impacts how we think of our achievements (and our failures) in a passage taken from No Man is an Island.  Merton writes:

“Only when we see ourselves in our true human context, as members of a race which is intended to be one organism and “one body,” will we begin to understand the positive importance not only of the successes but of the failures and accidents in our lives. My successes are not my own. The way to them was prepared by others.”

“The fruit of my labors is not my own: for I am preparing the way for the achievements of another. Nor are my failures my own. They may spring from the failure of another, but they are also compensated for by another’s achievement. Therefore the meaning of my life is not to be looked for merely in the sum total of my achievements. It is seen only in the complete integration of my achievements and failures with the achievements and failures of my own generation, and society, and time. It is seen, above all, in my own integration in Christ.

This seems to me to offer a nice antidote to how people often tend to think of their successes - as resulting from only their hard work and effort and, therefore, as belonging only to them.  As we look at our own successes, let us be aware of (and grateful for) the role others have played in bringing them about.

I Loved You First

For years, my nighttime ritual with my daughter included (and still sometiems includes) variations of a back and forth exchange along the lines of “I love you…I love you more…I love you most…I love you most-est” or “I love you to the edge of the universe…..I love you to the edge of the universe and back again…. I love you to the edge of the universe and back again times infinity….I love you to the edge of the universe and back again times infinity times [fill in the blank].”  Since she is more imaginative than I am, she always ended up with the last line. 

One night recently I thought, gotcha, and said, “I loved you first.”  I was surprised by her response, which was,  “That doesn’t count.”  She acknowledged that I was aware of her existence before she was aware of mine and therefore that, in fact, I loved her before she loved me, but she didn’t see that as having any meaning to the exchange over how much we loved each other. Part of my surprise, I think, is that I knew where my line came from….and the statement which mine mirrored is one that has significance.

God loved us first.  Whatever one thinks of my daughter’s reaction to my statement in our goodnight ritual, it matters loads that God loved us first.

People often think they have to do something to earn God’s love.  As though God’s love is a reward for our good deeds.  Of course, if we mistakenly think we have to do something to earn God’s love, we also mistakenly think we can lose that love if we don’t keep up the good work.

God loved us first.  Before we came into existence.  Before we did anything that could earn anything.  Unconditionally and everlastingly.  God loved us first.

 [Update: I just read Beth's post on Journey for today. She mentions people that see disasters such as the cyclone that hit Myanmar as God's punishing people for being bad. I think the people who say such things just don't get the thrust of God loved us first. So, while I pray for those who have died or are suffering in Myanmar, I also pray for the deepening of the appreciation of all of us that God loves us all...unconditionally and everlastingly.]

Father, they are your gift to me

John’s Gospel reading for today is the final part of Jesus’ prayer to his Father before he is arrested.  This last several verses of this passage (John 17:24-26) have been special to me since praying with the passage during a retreat I made several years ago.  My director instructed me to hear Jesus praying this prayer to his Father about me, to replace “they” with my name.  So I sat and heard Jesus say: “Father, Susan is your gift to me.  I wish that where I am Susan also may be with me, that she may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world…I made known to Susan your name and I will make it known, that the love with which you loved me may be in her and I in her.”

What a powerful experience!  I was so struck by hearing Jesus say that he wanted me to be with him always.  It is one thing for me to always want to be with Jesus - there is only one of him.  But, with all the millions and billions of us, to hear that it matters to Jesus that I be with Him always took my breath away.  What an amazing thing to hear - that being with me is Jesus’ desire. 

The fact that Jesus was expressing this desire not only to me, but to the Father made it even more powerful.  It somehow made it more than just an aspiration on Jesus’ part.  I realized that there is nothing the Father will not give Jesus; if Jesus desires this and asks it of the Father, it will be done.  So the prayer to the Father became for me almost a level of guarantee that Jesus’ desire would be fulfilled.  What an amazing feeling it was to experience the reality of the extent of Jesus’ desire for our togetherness.

What Jesus desires with me is no different from what he desires with each of us.  If you have any doubt about that, try praying with the passage as I did.  Experience Jesus’ prayer to his Father about you.

Seeing the face of Christ in the poor

St. Vincent looked at the poor and saw the face of Christ.  He saw Christ in the person needing to be fed and Christ in the naked person that needed to be clothed.

I thought of Vincent with some sadness as I read a series of statements included in the description of a poverty challenge being sponsored by the Homeless Alliance of Greater Buffalo, NY.  The statements reflect the experience of people living in poverty of what many see when they look at the face of a poor person.  “Being poor is people surprised to discover you’re not actually lazy.”  “Being poor is people who have never been poor wondering why you choose to be so.”  “Being poor is people angry at you just for walking around in the mall.” “Being poor is knowing you are being judged.”  “Being poor is people surprised to discover you are not actually stupid.”  “Being poor is people wondering why you didn’t leave.”  I was sad when I read the statements that people feel this way…and sad because they are made to feel this way - that their perception was probably a pretty accurate reflection of reality.

The statements cause me to ask: who or what do I see when I look at the man begging by the entrance to the expressway I get on when I leave the law school to drive home at night?  Who or what do I see when I look at someone shuffling around the mall who looks like he hasn’t showered in several days (or more)?  Who or what do I see when I pass someone in the street pushing a cart with all of their possessions in it?  If I don’t see the face of Christ, what is preventing me from doing so?  And how do I need God’s help to open my eyes to see what Vincent saw? 

If only I may finish my course

The first readings from the Mass of today and tomorrow together contain Paul’s farewell address to the Ephesians.  He has been living among them, teaching them and clearly developing close relationships among them.  Yet, he is now “compelled by the Spirit” to go to Jerusalem, where he has been warned that imprisonment and hardships and his likely death await him.   He knows as he is speaking to the Ephesians that he will never see them again, that this really is goodbye.  

As I reflect on the passage, I think of how hard I would have found it to be in Paul’s position.  I have a hard enough time saying goodbye to close friends when I know several months may pass before I see them again.  But to say goodbye knowing it is the last time your friends will throw their arms around you and kiss you (as the Ephesians did to Paul after they prayed together), let alone knowing you are headed toward likely death, how hard must that be?

Yet Paul is crystal clear about what matters.  “I consider life of no importance to me, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jeus, to bear witness to the Gospel of God’s grace.”   

I don’t know that I always have that same clarity of vision.  Sometimes I get a little tangled up and give too much importance to things that don’t deserve it.  Sometimes my anxieties take time and energy away from what matters.  So Paul is inspiring to me.  I pray for his strength as I carry on our ministry of bearing witness to the Gospel.  

Prophets, not Protesters

I was a debater in high school and it didn’t take me long to realize that debating the negative side was always easier than debating the affirmative side.  That it was so simply reflected the broader reality that it is always easier to tear down than to build up.

I just finished reading Shane Claiborne’s Irresistible Revolution, which offers a lot on which to reflect.  One of the things he talks about is the difference between protesters and prophets. 

Protesters do a good job of pointing out the problems, of telling us what is wrong.  But they tend not to offer alternatives.  Prophets on the other hand point the way to a new reality.  Claiborne writes, “Protesters are everywhere, but I think the world is desperately in need of prophets, those little voices that can point us toward another future.  Some of us have spent so much time fighting what we are against that we can barely remember what we are for.  Whether in the church or in circles of social dissent, there are plenty of people who define themselves by what they are not, whose identity revolves around what they are against rather than what they are for….Prophets and poets lead us into a new world, beyond simply yelling at the old one.”

We are called to be prophets, not protesters.  Our call is not merely to stand out in the square railing against the world as it exists, but to transform the world into the Kingdom of God.  That is a much tougher task - as Claiborne quips: “prophets usually get killed.”  And so let us pray for the strength to respond to the call, to pray for the grace to be prophets.   

Mary’s Month

Here in the Twin Cities, it is hard to believe it is really May, the month of Mary.  (We’re still having occasional days with snow flurries here.)  My memories of the month of May from my Catholic grade school days consist of scenes of my classmates and I processing around the classroom singing hymns to Mary, the procession ending with the crowning of the statute of Mary in the front of the classroom with a garland of flowers.  (As I write this, I can still feel how much each of us wanted to be the one to put the crown of flowers on Mary’s head.)

Most of my adult life, I had no particular devotion to Mary.  I think there is some truth in Pope Paul VI’s suggestion in his 1975 apostolic exhortation on Mary (Marialis Cultus)  that a lot of discussion of Mary at the time reflected outdated ideas about Mary of the Middle Ages and the Counter-Reformation period of the Church.  (He gave as an example the way some theology incorrectly presented Mary as timidly submissive.) 

I think we’ve grown - at least I know I have - in our appreciation of Mary in her fullness - as first disciple, as mother of God, as mother of the Church, as mother of sorrows, as a prophet of justice.  And for me equally important, as a real woman of faith. 

A young girl asked to give birth to the Son of God.  A young mother asked to leave her home and family and live as a refugee in a foreign country on the strength of a dream of her husband.  Flash forward to a woman (in a Jewish culture where marriage and children are the norm) hearing stories of the strange things her son is saying and doing and being forced to let go of any hope that her son will settle down and give her grandchildren.  And finally, that same woman, asked to witness the gruesome execution of her son.

These things all happened to a real human woman - a women with desires, dreams, anxieties and fear.  But also a woman of tremendous faith.  Mary trusted her God so completely, so deeply, that she was willing to put her entire life - and the life of her son - into His care.  When Mary calls herself the servant of the Lord during her encounter with the Angel (I’ve reflected before on the Annunciation), she is making a statement, not about submissiveness, but about her trust in God’s goodness.  Mary willingly places the direction of her life in God’s hands - all of it.  No matter what surprises came her way.  And it is that faith, that trust, that allowed her to face all that she did.

So as we remember Mary during this month of May, we remember, not an idealized superhuman figure, but a woman of tremendous faith.  A model of what it means to be a person of faith. 

Ascension (redux)

Until recently, I lived in a diocese that celebrates the Ascension on the traditional 40th day after Easter, so I still think in terms of “Ascension Thursday.”  However, in many diocese, today is the day on which the solemnity is celebrated.  For those celebrating today, my reflection on the Ascension, which I posted Thursday, is here.

Gratefulness

The Ignatian daily Examen practice includes as one of the first steps giving thanks to God for the gifts of the day.  We go through the events of the day that has just ended noticing all of the gifts we received that day.  We are encouraged to be very concrete as we do this, recalling the cool breeze that bathed us, the taste of the honey on our toast, a unexpected smile or kind word, perhaps an act of patience on our part.  We notice the gifts and give thanks.

I’ve come to believe that cultivating an attitude of gratitude is one of the most important things we can do.  So many people (particularly in this country, which so prizes individual accomplishment and achievement) have a sense of entitlement about so many things.  When you see everything as your entitlement, your due, it is it hard to do without things, and hard to share the things you have.  But seeing everything as a gift for which to be grateful changes everything.  Gratefulness helps strengthen our sense of connectedness to God and to each other.

Even if the examen is not a part of your daily prayer, consider taking a little intentional time before the end of the day to express gratitude for the gifts of that day.  It can be a tremendously powerful practice. 

P.S.  One of my favorite websites is gratefulness.org.  They envision “gratefulness as the core inspiration for personal change, international cooperation, and sustainable activism in areas of universal concern” and are dedicated to developing “a global community of people whose spiritual practice is grateful living.”